


Hands of Gold

by Seenik



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi, turned into a multi-chaptered sea of emotions, what started out as a drabble prompt 90 years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-11 07:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19529908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seenik/pseuds/Seenik
Summary: It happens at a different time, in a different place, to a different twin. The fallout of it changes the course of history as we know it.Years later, hard as she might try, the reason for the quarrel in the yard would be near impossible to recall. Whether or not the fight had truly been Jaime's or something she'd started on a day past when she'd been Jaime, all Cersei would remember was the end.





	1. Lessons

She'd woken up to the sun shining on her face, wind billowing the golden silk curtains that separated her chambers from the balcony overlooking the sea. Jeyne Farman lay snoring beside her, splayed out on her back as always, the most uncomfortable of all her companions to share a bed with by far. The old septa had yet to come and wake the girls for morning prayer, so Cersei slipped quietly from her bed, careful not to rouse the other girl, and made her way down the castle corridor to her twin's chambers.

Jaime was still asleep when she bundled under the covers next to him, he always woke well after she did. At first, she’d stared at him, willing him to sense her presence in his slumbered state and open his eyes, with her matching ones being the first sight he’d see of the day. Her brother was unmoved however, so next she’d tugged at a stray curl springing up over his forehead and watched a smile creep over his lips. Yet, his eyes remained closed, and ever the more willful of the two, Cersei’s patience was at an end. She lifted her feet so that they rested on the boy’s bare belly, the coolness of them sending a shock to his core and immediately he shot up with as much of a roar as a boy of nine years could muster, “ _Cersei!_ Stop that!” 

Ignoring her brother’s pouty scowl, Cersei hopped from the bed, “I had to wake you somehow! We have to _hurry_ Jaime.” Her hands were defiantly on her hips, it was meant to make her look authoritarian, like Father, but Jaime hardly cowed at _His_ urgent requests, nevermind hers. She watched him rub at his eyes lazily and fall back onto his pillows, anger creeping up into her chest. In an instant, she’d bounded back onto his bed, this time pinning him down with all her strength, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Struggling, but unable to move, he sighed up at her, “Forgot _what_? You’re not making any sense and I’m still tired!” Narrowing her eyes at him, she shoved his shoulders back into the featherbed, “It’s _my_ day today! You can be tired some other day, you promised today would be _mine_!” 

Jaime threw his arm across his face, covering his eyes in dramatic fashion, “I forgot.” Cersei poked him under his arm, the tickle of it made him unhide his eyes that were now bright with laughter, “Did you truly? Or are you just saying that so that you can have fun in the yard in my place, while I sit inside with boring old Septa and her boring old lessons?” 

Her twin grinned up at her in place of an answer, as always, and said instead, “They’re not _that_ boring. I like some of her stories. The ones about The Warrior are best-” He paused and looked at her with fully awake eyes, noticing for the first time that morning the lengths that she was willing to go to have her day at swords. “ _Cersei_!,” he was exasperated and reached up to touch her newly shorn curls, “Father said you weren’t to do this again! He said he’d surely _punish_ you if you did!”

He was always fearless, her brother, unless he felt some harm may come to her, then the brave lion cub became a whimpering pup, and Cersei had to be fearless enough for the both of them. She cupped his face with her hands, “Don’t _worry_ brother, he won’t harm me. He never does anything to _us_ , he can’t.” 

“But he-”

She ruffled his hair and once more leapt from the bed, “He says a lot of things. Remember when he _said_ he’d have you whipped for reading your letters wrong? All he did was have the kitchen boy whipped instead. He won’t ever touch us, we’re important.” 

“I don’t know, he sounded serious Cersei,” he complained, “He sounded very angry and besides, even if he doesn’t, _you_ said that you felt sad about what happened to that girl the last time he was cross with you!” The pitch in his voice had become higher, changing in that strange way it had been of late and she wanted to laugh if not for knowing that he was truly afraid. 

And he was right, of course, she _had_ been troubled as Father made her watch the daughter of one of his household guards take punishment for a deed she’d done. However, it had been the first time she realized, truly understood, that there would always be some other person, unfortunate as it was, to answer for her crimes because she was a Lannister and they were not.

Shaking away the morbid thought, she realigned herself with the acceptance of it all and shrugged, “Better her than me.”

She watched her brother’s face turn from sadness to something resembling indifference as he nodded, “Yes. It is.”

Sensing the sadness in his voice, she smiled her best smile for him, before pulling her nightshirt over her head and tossing it at him, “Let’s not dwell on unhappiness, shall we Jaime? Put that on and hurry to my chambers before Jeyne rises, we’ve both got lessons to learn of The Warrior today.”


	2. The Yard pt. 1

Dressed in her brother’s clothing, she felt a strange combination of different and the same. 

The crimson velvet doublet she wore displayed the proud lion of her house and the pride she felt, when looking at herself donning it in the looking glass before her, was beyond description. Her fingers went to touch her hair, the short tendrils falling just below her ears were as different from the long, springy coils she’d had only yesterday, before she’d made Melara cut them down as Jeyne stood watch by the door, as night and day. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile as she looked at her reflection, and Jaime’s face smiled back.

There was a knock on the door, “It’s time My Lord. The boys are ready in the yard, we mustn’t keep them waiting.”

“Just a moment Ser Benedict, I’ll be right there.” Even Jaime’s voice seemed to come from her mouth as she spoke. With one last glance at herself, she thought of how clever she was at tricking them all, and wondered if Jaime felt the same while he was being her.

Ser Benedict Broom had been Casterly Rock’s master-at-arms for as long as she could remember. The youngest son of one of her father’s lesser bannermen, he’d gained Father’s trust and admiration in some battle before she and Jaime had even been born, and had been in his direct service ever since. As Cersei opened the chamber door, he smiled at her, placing a large hand on top of her shoulder as they began the journey to the training yard. “I hope you’re ready for a rough go of it today lad, they’re down there chompin’ at the bit to get at you already,” he laughed. 

She looked up at him with a wide grin, “I hope they’re ready for _me_.” 

Broom shook his head, still laughing, “If ever a boy were his father’s son, it’s you Little Lord.” He ruffled her hair, a bit roughly, but she didn’t mind. It felt good, to be recognized as Father rendered small, even if the words had been truly meant for her brother. She looked up at the man again, taking him in. Although he towered over her, he was far shorter than Father was and probably what Jaime would grow to be. Still, she slowly let his brown eyes turn to green, his bushy brown hair turn into golden coils, and placed Father at her side, set to train his true heir in the yard in Broom’s stead.

The fantasy dissipated however, just before they reached the yard. “Speaking of, a raven came in from your father this morning,” Broom started, “he’s says he’s making his way west for your nameday celebration. A young man’s tenth nameday is a special one indeed and he wants the day to be grand. He’s very proud of you Jaime.”

A part of her wanted to ask if he were proud of her as well, if the letter mentioned his daughter at all. It was her tenth nameday too, same as Jaime’s, but she decided against it. Better to not know at all than to be disappointed.

When they reached the yard, the familiar sound of clanging steel filled her ears and a buzz of excitement ran through her body instantaneously. Household knights were drilling with each other, and a group of squires sparred with tourney steel in a corner by the stables. “Younger boys, round up!” Broom bellowed, and three of the usual suspects ran to where she was standing with him, eager to begin the day’s lessons with their newly joined opponent. 

“Morning Coz,” she directed at the eldest in their group while Broom helped her into sparring armor, “want to go first?” 

At twelve, her cousin Cleos stood not much taller than she did, and although Aunt Genna insisted on him training for hours on end, equipped with the finest equipment no less, his skills at arms were middling at best. He slouched when he walked, making his form terrible against even the least aggressive of foes, and he ducked and covered more than he lunged, which was great for the opposing attack. All in all, he was the perfect warm-up companion for a girl of nine, who snuck her way into perhaps five training sessions per moon’s turn if she were lucky.

“Not a chance! You promised me first go today Coz, don’t you remember? Thrashing on poor Cle would be in bad form Jaime, he’s the easiest win in the yard!” 

Lyonel was Cleos’ younger brother by nearly three years, but you’d never know it by the way they acted. The youngest of her aunt’s two sons was everything his brother was not, and he told his brother so, often. He didn’t look much like Cleos, a lot less Frey-like, and he was the smallest in the yard, but that didn’t stop him from being the loudest. Both of her cousins personified a special brand of irritation. Cleos was weak and stupid, his brother did not lie about that, but Lyonel reminded her of the small, manic dog in the yard that yapped and barked for hours on end without reason. A dog that Cersei frequently had to resist the urge to kick.

“Oh, as if thrashing on you would be any more difficult a feat,” she countered, and her cousin liked that not at all. He rushed over on quick paced, stubby legs, reminding her of Tyrion wobbling about the castle like a terrifying doll come to life. Standing inches from her, Lyonel stared up into her face, hazel eyes wild with fury, “You think you’re the best at everything, but I’m going to prove you wrong. Cleos might be an idiot craven, but _I’m_ not afraid of you, golden boy.”

Cersei met his stare with equal intensity and laughed, “That probably makes you the first brave Frey in all of history Little Coz!” 

He was born a moon before she and Jaime had been, but Jaime had taken to calling him ‘Little Coz’ as soon as he’d realized his cousin’s smaller stature was something that could be made into a joke. Naturally, Lyonel hated the moniker and Jaime in turn for bestowing it. 

A scowl grew on the boy’s face as he raised his tourney sword to strike her. Acting quickly, Cersei gripped her own sword with both hands, meeting the other blunted blade with a successful block. Then, she pushed back, both arms still firmly on the sword’s hilt, while her right foot came up to kick her cousin’s breastplate, sending him falling into a puddle of mud. Lyonel pushed himself off the ground with a scream, lunging at her knees, dragging them both down into the mud in the process. With sword still in hand, Cersei rolled on the ground so that she was above him, and smashed him on the side of his head with the hilt, leaving the boy bloody and writhing on the ground beneath her.

It was then that Broom finally came over to put an end to it, “That’s enough lads! And where are your helmets? You want to end up soft in the head?!” Cersei felt herself being lifted as Broom pulled them apart, feeling victorious for what she told herself would not be the last time that day. 

“You looked quite at home down there Little Coz, are you sure you’re a Frey and not some pig farmer’s son?” Broom had to hold Lyonel back from lunging at her again, and he shut her words down crossly, “I said _enough_ Jaime. Need I remind you that we fight clean in this yard?” Something in the way he’d said it made Cersei feel as though she may have gone too far in her last jest, but she was unsure why. Her cousin, however, was intent on keeping the fight going, “He wouldn’t know a thing about fighting clean, Ser Benedict. Everyone knows he’s a bloody cheat!”

“Mind your tongue you lackwit or I’ll bloody you again!”

“I don’t see why! You _are_ a cheat! You only win because everyone’s afraid to let you lose.”

“I thought _you_ weren’t afraid of me? Liar!”

“I am not a liar! And I’m not afraid of you! But I know _you’re_ afraid of _him_ ,” Lyonel said nodding in the direction of the fourth boy in their group, “because he won’t let you win.” 

The _him_ he spoke of was Gregor Clegane. He’d been brought to Casterly Rock only recently, reportedly as a kind gesture by Father for his, though Cersei never knew her father to do anything kind for anyone without the expectation of repayment. By far the tallest boy in the yard, at only ten years of age, he was already taller than half the men. He was certainly stronger than any of his training group and most of the squires as well. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was only one or two words at a time. No one knew if it were for a lack of things to say or the inability to do so, and the constant scowl on his face shielded anyone from wanting to find out. He hadn’t been at court the last time she’d been Jaime, so she wasn’t quite sure if she should be as afraid as her cousin was claiming her brother to be of him, she only knew what it would mean for them both if she refused to fight.

“I’ll beat him worse than I beat you,” she said ignoring Lyonel as she looked straight at her would-be opponent. She thought she saw a faint smile on the large boy’s face as he nodded in acceptance of the challenge. 

Broom broke in exasperated, “Alright then, stop your squabbling. Both of you, get properly fitted with your helmets, and we’ll have a real go of it. And some time _today_ preferably.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
